Unfathomable
by GenericBrandSoda
Summary: Captain John Watson was a sailor, born and bred, and despite his crew members' thoughts and opinions, he finds himself intrigued by only one thing: merfolk. Of course there were rumors about the creatures, but they were only for children and naive young sailors. Captain Watson believed otherwise. Merman!Sherlock. AU. Johnlock further on.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N:No one is writing mermaid!Sherlock fics, so I decided to write one of my own. Feel free to call me out on any mistakes I've made, I typed this up in a hurry. Read and Review, please! I hope you enjoy!_

Chapter 1.

John Watson was a sailor, born and bred. His home was the ocean (or his ship, rather), his family his crew and the creatures of the sea. Even in the early years of his childhood he could remember being drawn to the sea. Stories his father, a crewman on an old trade ship, would tell to him of great storms and battles with gargantuan sea monsters only seemed to deepen the young boy's interest. And of course there were mermaids. John had always been interested in tall tales of mermen and mermaids, often listening to elder sailors and locals at docks ramble old myths and legends about the mythical creatures. Which is exactly why he could be found in old inns and pubs gathering information on the subject. Today was no different.

"Captain! The crew's ready! Where in the hell have you been off to?" Lestrade demanded, catching up to Watson's pace down the dock and to the ship. John kept silent, pulling his weather-torn coat closer to his shivering form. "Oh, oh I see. Abandon the ship 'n crew to go here those fairytales? Honestly, Captain, I can't imagine why you believe in that old bullshit." Lestrade spat, hints of anger seeping into his tone. John remained quiet. This wasn't unusual. In fact, it happened nearly every time John and his crew docked for supplies and ammunition. Every story was well worth the time to him, however. Acquiring the information about the creatures and their alleged whereabouts could lead him one step closer to laying eyes on the creatures that intrigued him.

He had come across a story that had truly caught his attention today, though. He had wandered the docks for what seemed like hours until coming across an old woman at an inn, appropriately named 'The Mermaid's Scale Inn'. John made his way in, watching his step on old floorboard and rusty nails, dodging leaking, dingy water dripping endlessly from the ceiling. The state of the inn led him to believe it to be abandoned, and John turned to leave before an old woman's voice rang out through the room.

"What do you want?" she demanded, appearing from behind a rotting wooden door near the back. John quickly pulled his hat off, kneading the fabric of it nervously as he looked the woman in the eye. Cold, barren features were chiseled into her face by years and years of the harsh conditions of living at sea; John saw she was unmistakably an old sailor woman.

"I-I.. I've come to ask you if you know any tales of," John paused anxiously from the brutal gaze the woman was giving him. "Mermaids." He stopped, and awaited her answer in the not so silent room. Water dripped and the docks creaked and moaned below the floors. The woman's face, surprisingly, softened, her eyes shone bright with excitement.

"You want to know about the merfolk?" John nodded."I've got information, boy. I have facts. No one believes in the merfolk anymore, but you do, yes?" John nodded again.

The woman led him back into a small back room from which she first entered, giving him tea (which John choked down, the lukewarm liquid slid down his throat unpleasantly) and a place to sit as she told him her stories and personal accounts.

"I've just seen on the other day," she paused, pointing to a small window that gave a breathtaking view of the sea. Her voice lowered as if she was telling John a dark secret. "He was just out the window, I saw him with my own eyes. He has a magnificent tail, with a shining fin at the end. He was by far the most beautiful one I've ever laid eyes on. Dark hair with curls, and pale, white skin. He was stunning." She paused again, deep in thought.

John listened to every detail she noted, every story she so beautifully described. He was thankful for the old woman and had been willing to let the ship's crew wait on him. There were merfolk out there (well, if everything the woman had said was true.) and John Watson was determined to find one. Lestrade led the way onto the ship, John following. The crew was a bit hostile with him and the passengers antsy to leave the docks, but how could her explain why he was late?_ 'I just went to talk to a possibly insane woman about a merman?'. _Yes, that was sure to blow over well.

"I got caught up with an old friend," he lied, aware of Lestrade's disapproving glares. It seemed to satisfy everyone though, and the crew got the ship prepared to leave, while the passengers made their way around the ship and into the cabins. The familiar breeze of the sea met John's face and he closed his eyes in relaxation. The sea was truly his home. It was full of life, full of living things that thrived off the vast environment. And hopefully one of those things was a merman or mermaid. John set his gaze ahead of the ship, looking back once at the docks when they were but a speck in the distance. He turned back to the ship, surveying the decks as well as the crew as they ambled about. He felt the well-known control of manning the ship. The one thing he failed to realize, however, were a pair of ocean-colored eyes staring straight at him from within the sea.

John Watson was being followed.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: This story is probably shit, but it's fun to write. Read and Review!_

Chapter 2.

As night drew closer, exhaustion began to plague John's body, his eyes falling closed as he stared out past the ship. His feet felt molded to the wooden floor of the ship from standing at the helm for hours. His bones ached and his skin was chilled from the night's cold winds.

"Let me take over, Captain." Lestrade walked up from the lower deck. John was silently thankful for Lestrade's wanting to help, seeing as he was falling asleep at the helm. Lestrade took the wheel as John moved away to stretch his legs, leaning against the back of the ship behind the helm. Lestrade was quiet. The sky was bright with the light of the stars and full moon and John looked over the constellations, repeating their names as his father had silently in his head. He let his head lean back and listened to the lull of the ocean's waves, his eyes closed.

"Lestrade?" He left his eyes closed, enjoying the break from steering. The sea's waves created peaceful noise to fill the silence.

"Yes, Captain?"

"You don't think my, you know.."

"Mermaid fascination?" Lestrade completed, no cruel or judgemental tones in his voice. John smiled. Lestrade was one he could always count on as a confidential friend.

"Erm, yes. You don't think I'm-"

"Crazy?" Lestrade finished again, voice softened. He looked back and John's expression seemed to plead for answers, wanting to know Lestrade's thoughts almost desperately. A breeze rustled his clothes, chilling down to his bones even more and Lestrade let out a sigh. "Sir, I always... wondered." He admitted. "Going around to all those people, even taking me with you sometimes... And I should point out that merfolk is a very strange... fascination." _Obsession_, he yearned to say.

"Yes, I know." John let tones of disappointment, rejection even, into his words. He could care less if he was crazy. He wanted to.. He wanted to prove something. To have great adventures like his father claimed to have. He wanted to _do_ something. _Discover_ something. He wanted _adventure_. Like the heroes in old fables he knew by heart. He didn't want to be Captain John Watson. He wanted to be Captain John Watson: The Man Who Discovered the Merfolk. Or discovered anything else exciting and noteworthy. He wanted to become the hero kids would be told about.

Minutes of silence passed and the two men listened to the creaks and groans of wood under them. Lestrade broke the silence.

"But don't think for one minute I wouldn't go to the very tip of the earth and back to help you find a mermaid, Captain." John could here the sincerity in his voice. There was so much he could say, so much he needed to thank Lestrade for. For letting him stop at the docks and listen to information. To cover for him when his body was overcome by exhaustion. For being a friend to John when every other person failed to do so. But Lestrade started speaking before John could answer. "Head off to bed, I saw the exhaustion in your eyes."

Thankful again for Lestrade's kindness, John headed down towards the cabins. The noise of rats rustling around the floors and the haunting sound of the sea winds faded away as John fell fast asleep, Lestrade's words still playing over and over in his head. A ragged sigh emitted from his mouth. Maybe he was crazy.

* * *

"CAPTAIN!"

John shot up instantly, hand grabbing the pistol he kept tucked under his pillow at all times in reaction. His heart raced in his chest as he heard a crack of thunder come from overhead. There was a storm. A bad one, from the way the floor rocked beneath him.

"CAPTAIN!" The stressful call came again and his door slammed open to reveal Mike Stamford, a crew member. John dropped his gun in surprise. "There's been a storm, sir. We didn't mean to wake you, we could handle it on our own, but," he paused to breathe.

"What is it?" John demanded, louder than expected.

"It's Lestrade, sir." John's heart came to a halt. "He fell over when a large wave hit the ship just minuted ago; we can't find him, sir."

John had't stayed to hear the end. He raced out of the cabins and into the open, a large gust from the storm instantly blew him off his feet. He got his footing again faster and ran towards 3 sailors standing at the helm, looking overboard. Crew member were running over the ship frantically, tying down barrels and climbing up masts while the passengers ran for cover, a few brave ones staying behind to help the crew.

"Is he not going to be rescued?" He yelled angrily at them. They stood silent, obvious signs of worry were plastered on their faces. A bolt of lighting lit up the near black atmosphere and the rains drowned out all sounds. A sinking feeling came over John. _Lestrade was out there. He was in those waves._ Without time to think he leaped overboard.

"Captain!" one of the sailors called after him, a crowd of passengers and sailors alike gathered where he had jumped. "Captain!"

The bitter waters hit John hard, as if he had been thrown against a block of ice. His body was paralyzed by the mere temperature of the sea, his eyes blinded by the inky waters. Currents from the storm knocked him around, his head hitting against the back of the ship even. The salt stung his eyes as he searched for Lestrade's form in the deep depths. The silence of being underwater left him feeling vulnerable, making John feel as if he could be attacked at any moment and would not be able to here a creature approaching. His foot kicked against something unmoving. He reached his hand down to feel around. John was losing air by the second and he knew if he wasn't out of the icy waters soon he was done for. He let his hands grasp around the wrists of whom he had just kicked, and he used his weakening energy to lift his weight as well as the body's weight up and into the air again.

He was met by pounding rain and bolts of lightning, and he heard sputters and gasps for air from next to him. Relief washed over him as he saw Lestrade, alive, swimming next to him. John's vision was blurry and his eyes were closing again, but he mustered up the strength to push Lestrade over to the rope the crew had sent down.

"Captain! Lestrade!" he could make out calls. looking up to see Lestrade slowly making his way up the rope. Lestrade looked down, face clammy and hair slicked to his head. The world was blurry around him and his senses were fogged.

"Captain!" he yelled weakly, holding out his hand to John. "John!"

John had a fleeting amount of energy, yet he found enough in him to grasp on to the corse rope and yank his body up_. You'll be to the ship in seconds, Lestrade is safe, the crew is safe_, John constantly repeated in his head. _I'm almost safe. _

His body was just out of the water when two, icy cold hands reached up from under him, grasping firmly onto his ankles. Shock took over John's body and he fell silent. The hands tugged him back into the water and he lost his grip on the rope. Screams of people above to sea fell silent upon his ears and he was pulled farther and farther away into the ocean. He was losing air and his body was shaking in a mix of pure exhaustion and from the bone-chilling cold. The world grew silent and black around him.

_A/N: Me again! AH! What shall happen next? Will this be the end of Captain John Watson? Will Lestrade recover? Who in the hell yanked John under? I can assure you it's not who you think it is... (Backs away and laughs evilly)_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Questions have come up about the time period: I picture it as being set in a Pirates of the Caribbean era. Keep in mind this will be a slash fic (Sherlock/John). I wasn't quite sure if I clarified on that. Anyway, I've been updating a lot because I have a vacation coming up, so I want to give you guys one more chapter before I go for a week. Yes the story is ridiculous and cracky, but it's great fun to write! Thanks for the nice reviews! Sorry for any mistakes, I rushed to get this up before my vacation. _

Chapter 3.

It was silent when John woke up. There was someone near him; he could feel their presence, hear their breathing. Fear struck him quickly and he kept his eyes shut, trying to come to his senses. _It could be a crew member? Had he passed out on deck? Then again, last night's events could have been a dream. Was it last night? How long had he been out?_ John lay still and unmoving, listening to the breathing coming from beside him.

John moved his head lethargically and in return received a sharp pain surging through his skull. He instantly was brought back to the night of the storm, and his head crashing against the boat. He raised his hand gingerly to his forehead, listening to the breathing next to him. Whatever the thing was, it was asleep. He felt around to find a large gash in his head, caked in dried blood and sand. He held his breath, feeling around it, letting a few sighs of pain escape his mouth.

He opened his eyes slowly, but closed them again when sunlight pierced his vision, blinding him. He moved his legs around; if he couldn't see his surroundings he would try to feel them. Sand, rocky sand. He moved his hands away from nursing his wound and laid them in the sand, preparing to prop himself up with the draining energy he had.

Reluctantly he lifted himself up and held his weight with his arms, shaking from the exhaustion of being carried away last night by...

The events of the night rushed back to him again. _Lestrade, where was Lestrade? More importantly, were was John? And the hands, the thing that had dragged him away from his ship that night.._. He had a sinking feeling that the person was next to him, and as much as he feared to do so, he attempted another look around. First John squinted, then gradually opened his eyes bit by bit until his vision was again flooded by light. Though aware of his fleeting strength, he remained with his eyes open until the world came into focus. He was met by the sight of pacific waves crashing almost silently against a rocky shore, and an endless horizon gray with a thin layer of clouds, sun peaking out from under them. He let the sight sink in, not wanting to discover the thing that had yanked him away from his ship last night.

The creature had had hands, John thought, placing a hand again on his wound. His body ached endlessly, his head spun in confusion. His ship was long gone. He was abandoned, left. He sighed, the sigh coming out louder than expected.

That very second the breathing thing awoke and became a blur as John found hands clasped over his eyes.

"Ah!" He groaned, wincing in immense pain. The hands on his eyes were cold, but not freezing. Like cool stones of a river or a chilling mist in the early dawn. John kept still until his pain subsided, his head reeling. The hands did not give way. John's heart raced inside his aching chest and he broke the soundless atmosphere.

"Where am I?" he whispered, clenching his eyes against the palms of the hands currently thrown over his eyes. Whatever the thing was it didn't want to be seen. John heard murmurs coming from above. Something about a thing named Myraft? Mikeroft? What kind of name was that? (Considering it was a name.) "Where am I?" he repeated, louder. The mutters stopped, and the thing spoke, its soft voice fell upon John's ears like sweet, gentle music. It was a woman.

"You're safe," the voice breathed tenderly. Despite the sweet voice John's heart continued to pound within him, remembering his father's stories about the Sirens: sweet voices but dangerous creatures. John was not about to let his guard down. The hands steadily removed themselves, the bright day light hit John's eyes again.

"Ahh," he groaned, peering up at his capturer. He saw red. Or orange, rather. Orange hair tumbling over a young woman's face. Definitely not a Siren, he thought to himself, looking up at the pretty face staring back at him. He must have been staring for quite some time, because the woman spoke up.

"Who are you?" she demanded quietly.

"Who am I? Who are you?" John's voiced raised, making the shy woman shrink back in surprise. John would have been apologetic, but this woman had pulled him off his ship! Stolen him from his crew! Left them without a captain!

"Molly," she answered, moving away from John's face, rolling away from John altogether.

"Hold on!" John called. He liftined himself up to look around, regretting his actions as soon as he had done so for another bolt of pain and soreness rushed through him. "Why the hell did you pull me from my ship!" he yelled, anger getting the best of him. He looked around the rocky shores for the girl, but she had disappeared. Not fearful but angry, John got on his feet, ignoring his body. His mind was going a mile a minute and he had no time to worry about his pain now, there was always later. He glanced around, neck creaking and bones popping beneath him. How long had he been out? He had a sudden suspicion that it wasn't just for a night.

John's attentions became focused quickly, however, on a large tail in the ocean, making its way further away from him. It was a light emerald, the color of brilliant leaves on a new spring day. Peaking out of the ocean at him was the young woman, Molly, with a tail swimming behind her. She was becoming smaller and smaller by the second.

"I'll be back! I'm just getting a medic!" She called, dipping again into the sea, completely disappearing.

It hit John like a ton of bricks. The very creature he'd searched for all of his life, the very creature who consumed his time and filled his thoughts had been lying next to him, caring for him. John had found a mermaid. And there were more. There were many more, he thought, falling off his feet and landing hard on the sand, sitting dumbfounded. He had met a mermaid. And he was about to meet another.

_A/N: Who's the medic? Is Molly being true? Is help coming to John? More importantly, will he ever see his ship again? Wait and see... (more evil laughs) I promise an extra long chapter when I get back from my trip, filled with answers and plottiness and merman-y goodness! Bye for now!_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Back from a spectacular vacaaaaaaationnnnnnn (skips around room showing off tan)! The beach was fabulous, exactly the break I desperately needed! It's good to be back home, though. Thank you for the nice reviews and messages (OhMyMishaCollins! I still can't believe people are actually reading it -gasps-). Anywhooo enjoy the next chapter, read, and review! ((There might be some mistakes in it, but go easy on me. I'm not some accomplished writer, just a young high school fangirl who wants to write a cracky fic. Please no more hate comments!)) _

Chapter 4.

_"Captain! Captain!" The ship rocked beneath John's feet. A storm raged overhead and rain drenched the wooden decks and the world around him was a blur as passengers and the crew ran past him, knocking him off his feet, his head hitting against the decks._

_A streak of lightning flared up across the sky and John was in the ocean, bones aching and legs paralyzed by the freezing temperatures. He felt himself sinking, black ocean waters surging around him. He thrashed violently, trying to swim up to his ship, but hands were dragging him downward, down to unfathomable depths._

John bolted up straight into a sitting position, head and heart pounding. His eyes focused on the now dark sky; the sun had just set. His head fell back onto the sand and he groaned, rolling onto his side.

"Moving will make it hurt worse," came a voice hardheadedly. John jerked around quickly, laying eyes on the speaker. Throbs of agony coursed through him again. The stranger let out a condescending groan. Something cool was placed on his head, with a gel-like texture, instantly soothing his wound. John looked up at the new stranger.

_Definitely not Molly, _he chuckled to himself, staring up at a pale white face surrounded by dark, full curls. Green-blue eyes were coldly set on John, and there seemed to be no traces of friendliness and innocence in his features, as there had been with Molly. They were opposites really, his near black hair contrasting her red hair, his pale, angular face contrasting her soft, cheery one. John got the notion that maybe this wasn't the 'medic' the strange young girl had referred to.

"Who sent you?"

No answer.

"What are you doing?" John tried again.

No answer. He listened to the squelches of the cool substance as the man applied it on the gash in his head. Surprisingly it didn't hurt, but in fact it felt as if it was closing the wound.

"Fine, just don't talk. Whatever makes you happy." John muttered scornfully and shut his eyes.

"I would prefer it if you kept quiet." The man sneered, pressing the substance a bit harder onto his healing injury. John mumbled imprecations but kept quiet nonetheless, ears now filled with the sound of the gentle crashing waves. The night time was quiet, peaceful. Curious, he took a longer look at the man. His inky hair was all but dry accept for few strands clinging to his face, damp with water. His eyes pierced John like a dagger had gone through him, but he ignored the man's gaze and let his eyes trail down. The man had a lean shape, pale skin stretched almost tightly over bones. John excitedly expected a long, merman's tail to be connected to his abdomen, but was met with disappointment when he saw two long, alabaster legs. A dusting of light pink fell over John's cheeks as he noticed the man was lacking clothing. He quickly averted his eyes, uncomfortably staring off into the scenery behind the male. The signs of dismay must have been clearly evident on John's face, for the stranger spoke up.

"What do you think I am?" he questioned emotionlessly. Not sure how to answer the question (had it been a question? Or just a meaningless complaint?), John paused before speaking.

"Well, I would say the obvious. You are a human, no?" Instantly, his reply was retorted with a vexed eye-roll as the stranger sat up straighter.

"So predictable, humans like you." John took it as in insult. In fact, every action and word that came from the man had been insulting and belittling. "Look again."

John peered again at the lanky legs, scanning them over carefully, but noted to avoid his... uncovered places. The more he looked, the more something seemed.. _off_ about the man's legs. As if they were weak, muscleless, not often used. They lay together, unmoving, in the corse sand. The stranger practically sensed John's observations and spoke again.

"Have a good grasp of the obvious now?"

John grunted, using all of his strength not to lash back at the haughty stranger. He knew the man was different, but he couldn't put a finger on what he might actually _be. _He racked his brain for any possible answer, one that would make his smug new _'friend' _rethink his snide comments. Defeat settling into him, John's eyes met the curly-headed man's again, a silent call of surrender filling them. He wasn't met by an eye roll are sharp laugh from his new caretaker, but it wasn't a look of friendliness on his face either. Just a plain, blank stare with a hint of a weak smirk.

"Look again," he mumbled quietly, barely detectable over the crashing of the waves against the stony shore. Night had fallen upon them, the dark-haired man's skin had an almost luminous appearance in the dim moonlight. His eyes had the same aspect, the green flecks in them radiant, even shining, as if they were stars in the dark night sky. John became conscious of his gaze and he moved his eyes reluctantly, wanting badly to savor the sight of this almost unearthly stranger. He strained to see in the growing blackness but his eyes caught on the glint of something shining, brighter than the man's eyes. Eyes wide and unbelieving, John found himself staring at a brilliantly colored, long tail; a merman's tail.

"Holy..." he trailed off, hands fidgeting toward the scales of the tail, the need to lay a finger on them almost overpowering. He couldn't help but smile. In his presence, caring for him, staring at him, was a creature he had searched for all of his life, and he hadn't even noticed until the facts stared him straight in the eye. He should have recognized the alien-like structure to his face, the other-worldly manner in which he moved and acted. He was in the presence of a merman_, _no matter how rude and condescending he may have been.

Pain forgotten, John moved closer, drawing himself onto his knees and leaned over the man's tail (the very thought of a _tail_ still sounded bizarre in his mind.) Scales of a countless number of colors were present, all giving a haunting glow in the moonlight. The dominant hue seemed to be a rich, purple-black, deep and inky, like his winding locks. When they moved they shone other pigments. The light revealed a plethora of colors, shimmering emeralds and deep reds; all of them gorgeous and individual. His tail tapered off and a long, thin, intricate fin was connected. It looked too delicate and vulnerable, like it could be torn by the slightest snag on rocks or rubble. The tail's length dwarfed John.

Thinking back, John recalled the other mermaid's, Molly's, tail. They contrasted greatly, the man's tail being long, delicate, rich in colors, while Molly's had been a bit thicker and stronger built, but beautiful and long nonetheless.

He was abruptly brought back to reality by a slight cough, eyes snapping back up to meet the other man's. John was speechless, head spinning in a mix of wonder, confusion, disbelief, and a faint amount of nausea. Sure, he had seen Molly, but this was up close. This was in his face, right in front of him. This was real. The man's arms had undergone a transformation of their own as well. The faintest signs of long fins were showing, attached to the backs of his lanky arms. His chest revealed small slits along the sides against his very visible ribs. Gills, John suspected, still feeling the need to pinch himself.

"What.. What..." John stuttered and stared, forgetting the merman's arrogant attitude until he was bitterly reminded.

"Isn't it obvious." He retorted sharply, but appeared to rethink his tone of voice and let out a muted sigh. He looked John in the eye, eyes luminous as ever. "My name is Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes."

"Watson." John stuttered. "John Watson."

_A/N: Squeeeeee! The boys have met! John has discovered another mermaid (well, technically merman)! But is Sherlock truly the medic Molly went to get? Are there even more merfolk in the ocean? WHERE THE HELL IS JOHN ANYWAY? AND WHY WAS HE PULLED FROM HIS SHIP? Hehehe, sorry to put these dramatic and confusing questions at the end of all my chapters. It's just too much fun. New chapters are in the process of being written, with answers to many of these strange events, have no fear._


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Sorry this took a while to update. I've come down with some kind of flu-like illness and have been feeling like total shit, so my mind's a bit wonky. Please excuse any errors. Thank you again for the comments and messages. You have no idea how surprised I am that people are still actually reading this. Enjoy, read, and review!_

Chapter 5.

John Watson was alone. Alone on a beach, barely mobile due to his head injury that seemed to have stopped healing and remained open, infected from exposure to the harsh elements of the rocky shore he was residing on. His head was scorching but his body shivered uncontrollably despite the perfect temperature of the night. At best, John hoped for it was a mere fever. At worst, he hoped he would live to see the sun rise.

Never before had a sickness disabled his whole body like this one had, sweat dripping off of his temples and stinging the wound that refused to heal, no matter what the merman had tried to treat it with. John's mind was still racing with thought of the merman, but was even more occupied by his illness at the moment. Not as if thinking of the curly-headed merman, w_hat was his name.. Sherlock?_, would help him in any way. Soon after their abrupt introduction the merman had gone back to the sea within seconds, no explanation given for his disappearance. Not that John had thought for a minute the stranger had been trustworthy. Something about him seemed eerie and... he couldn't put his finger on what it was. Very strange, he decided.

After hours of waiting, it was clear the man (well, merman) was not going to reappear or send any help, leaving John alone to himself on the unknown beach. He had tried to get up to search for someone, anyone who could help him or tell him where he was. But upon standing he found he was not able to walk long distances, much less take a number of steps. Though, he could move around very limitedly before his vision became bleary, and found himself searching for a place of shelter or anything to hide him from whatever might be lurking on these beaches. They were inhabited by merfolk, there was no telling what else was concealed in the rocks and sparse trees. John found himself resting up against the cool surface of a boulder, moss-like plants were comforting against the back of his weary head and neck. That's when the sickness came over him. He had let his eyes drift shut, hoping sleep would rebuild his stamina, but awoke in the late hours of the night (or _very_ early morning hours, rather) quivering constantly and head pounding again.

John prayed to every higher power he could think of, even sending a plea for another mermaid to come up from within the sea and tend to him. He made sure to keep his eyes from closing, not sure if their shutting would mean the last of his days on earth. John thought briefly of his crew and even questioned again why he had been taken away from his ship that night, however long ago it had been. John still had no grasp on how long he had been away. It couldn't have been for very long, right?

But eventually his battle to stay awake stopped when he found his eyes closed without realizing, and he soon drifted away into darkness.

Hours had passed before he heard it. He was awash with joy and excitement when he heard the merman's, Sherlock's, he reminded himself, voice over the crashing waves of the sea. He glanced around but couldn't seem to spot the merman; he must've been on the other side of the boulder John was against. And the more he listened, he began to hear not only the Sherlock's unmistakable voice, but also the voice of Molly. And another merman's (he assumed it to be a merman) voice he couldn't make out.

"Anderson, don't say another word, you lower the IQ level of the whole island with every syllable," came a sneer, undoubtably Sherlock, followed by a sigh from Molly._ So the other's name was Anderson,_ John noted. There was more whispering and John yearned for the trio to speak louder, to allow him to listen without having to move. He shifted slightly and let out a groan of pain, right hand racing up to clasp his forehead. The three went quiet; John had given himself away

"Happy now, Anderson? You've awoken him." John heard Sherlock say and he sucked in his breath quickly, hearing Sherlock's voice get louder as he turned towards John's direction. "John?"

John didn't answer. After all, he still had no idea _why_ he was here, or why these merfolk were interested in him.

"John?" This time it was Molly who spoke, and he heard something long dragging through the sand towards him. _A tail. _Keeping his hand on his head, he craned his neck to peer around the rock, met with the sight of Molly rather near to him, her eyes filled with a tinge of worry but mostly relief at seeing John was awake, fever nearly gone. A grin spread across her face and she gave him a clumsy hug, pulling away gingerly. "We are so glad to see you awake and looking better, aren't we?" She turned around to Sherlock and Anderson. Sherlock was looming over the new merman menacingly, but his eyes seemed to soften slightly when John met his gaze.

John looked away from Sherlock and at the new merman, quickly taking in the sight of a murky looking, grey tail and a long fin at the end the color of thick, bland fog: dull and grey. The scales had shine like the other two's, but were more muted and seemed dismal and overall gloomy. Not the same sight as Sherlock's, which still shone brightly even in the dim light of the now early morning. Anderson's features were twisted into a sour scowl, and John quickly found himself turning to face Molly again.

"Em, yeah. Nice to see you as well." Molly beamed again at John and she moved back to the other side of the rock, signaling for him to follow. He dragged himself to his feet and rested his hands on the boulder, shuffling around to the other side slowly but surely. He seated himself next to Sherlock, who had moved to lean against the boulder. John fought to keep his eyes off of the merman, settling to look away and continue conversation with Molly, who sat across from him and Sherlock, Anderson close to her side but staring off elsewhere, as if the mere sight of Sherlock was a appalling to him. His toes touched the edges of Molly's fin as she chattered on.

"Sorry for last night, I meant to send for Anderson but I guess Sherlock heard first," she laughed shyly. "But I see he treated you just fine, seeing as he didn't take any limbs for testing," Molly laughed again. _It was a joke. It had to be, right?,_ John thought. He chimed in with a shaky laugh as well.

"Well, em," John paused, fidgeting in the grainy sand. "I did seem to have a bit of a fever, but it's gone away, and I've gotten my stamina back bit by bit." Anderson's eyes snapped up and stared at Sherlock sharply.

"What did you give him?" He demanded, Molly and Sherlock's attention drawn away from John and back to the other merman. John saw Sherlock's eyes narrow vaguely, the faintest hint of a smirk graced his lips. He didn't answer. Something in the way Anderson had reacted to John's telling about his fever made John uneasy. He hadn't worried about what Sherlock had treated his wound with until that very instant. Had the fever been a side effect?

"I'm waiting." Anderson sneered and Sherlock leaned back further against the rock, head falling back and staring blankly into the sky, his curls rustling in the wind.

"How I treat my patients is no business of yours, _Anderson_." He spat back, eyes still transfixed on the sky, light with the glow of the now rising sun.

"Your _patients_?" Anderson laughed furiously, moving closer. "Last time you had a _patient _ the man lost 6 toes and an arm!" John's eyes snapped wide open and he turned immediately to Sherlock, who had glanced down at John. Their eyes met and John searched for some kind of emotion in them, anything to show whether Anderson was even telling the truth.

"It was for an _experiment,_ Anderson. And may I point out the human gave me his consent to do so." He stated plainly. John still couldn't believe his ears. 6 toes? An _arm_? For an _experiment_? For all he knew these merfolk could be cannibals. Or Sherlock, at least. Molly obviously caught the fear that was present in John's features and comforted him.

"Don't worry, John. I don't believe Sherlock has plans for any experiments for now," she smiled. Well, maybe it wasn't the most reassuring statement. John looked around at the three, eyes darting from faces to tails and finally met Sherlock's gaze. Still blank and dull, but with a hint of care reflecting in his eyes. John was not completely convinced, but he settled back down again and kept his eyes on his feet, tails and fins distracting him every so often.

"And under my care, John will be healed within less than a week," Sherlock broke the silence. John felt all eyes on him. "That is," John looked up. "If you want me to continue treatment? Or would you rather Anderson?" He could hear the resentment in Sherlock's tone when the other merman's name was stated. Eyes darting up to meet Molly's in hopes of a suggestion on whom to pick, John took a deep breath.

"Well, Sherlock's already started my treatment.." He trailed off and looked up at Anderson apologetically. Met with a defeated eye roll, John looked back over to Sherlock.

"Great!" Molly clasped her hands together, drawing everyone's attention instantly. "The conflict has been solved!" She beamed and looked back over at Sherlock. "Would you prefer we take him back to the sea for more treatment? Or keep him on land?"

Back in the_ sea? _

"Sea. I'd rather keep an eye on his head wound until the infection has cleared." Sherlock began to push away from the rock, dragging himself nearer to the close waves. The other two moved as well, the morning sun catching on their scales, giving them a warm, shimmering glow. "Come along, John."

John was speechless. And somehow, anger seemed to wash over him in a great wave. He stood up, ignoring the pain and fatigue that had come over him. He trudged over to the three, feet meeting the waves.

_"Come? With you? I don't know you! I don't even know where I am! Or why I should follow you into the sea! And if you haven't noticed, I can't exactly breathe underwater!" _John blushed as soon as he caught sight of Molly's shocked expression. Anderson had already disappeared into the waters, his tail dipping back into the depths. John's eyes met Sherlock's sky-colored ones, flecks of green in them shining in the sun's rays. Sherlock reached up to him, his pale hand almost a ghostly white against the inky appearance of his tail. John hesitantly reached down to him, feeling the sea's water splashing against his feet. He took steps further into the waves, their cold temperatures chilling against his legs. There seemed to be a rock beneath the waters, though, instead of grainy sand. John struggled to keep his footing. Sherlock moved along side him, waves crashing up against him. He glanced up at John, and without much as a second going by, he snapped under the sea, dragging John along with him.

John flailed around and struggled to hold his breath, becoming drenched by the salty water. He tried to fight the blackness that was spreading into his vision, and the all too familiar feeling of drowning he had felt the night of the storm enclosed against him.

For the second time in his life, John's world went black as he was pulled farther down into the sea.

_A/N: Where is John going? What the hell does Sherlock plan to do with him? How will he survive in the water? AND WHY THE HELL IS HE HERE ANYWAY? Hehehe, more shall be revealed next time, dear readers. But for now, please review and have a nice day! :)_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: I'm back, faithful readers! I felt pretty shitty for a while, but now I'm feeling in tip top shape (happy dance)! Okay, sooooo I wrote this when I was sick and obviously that means it might have mistakes. Why did I not go back and edit, you ask? I'm too lazy! So, as always: read, review, and have a nice day! (P.S.- I promise this is a slash story. There will be slashy goodness and Johnlock soon, but I need to give it a bit of background before I dive into the romance and the adventurous plot I have planned.)_

Chapter 6.

The atmosphere around John Watson was brisk and bitter, but soothing and cool all the same. His eyes were open, analyzing the scenery around him. John was underwater. The natural urge to hold his breath and squint his eyes had overcome him when he had first awoken, but he found that he could not only see clearly under the salt water, but breathe as well. This discovery would have been shocking to the captain, if it weren't for the fact that he felt the merman, Sherlock, had something to do with his new aquatic abilities.

John had been awake for nearly half an hour, searching for Sherlock or any of the other merfolk that might have inhabited the area. He had found himself lying across bitterly cold and grainy sand. The urge to get up and seek the merman brought him quickly to his feet; he felt light and nearly weightless surrounded by the salty sea. His clothes hovered against him, the water's current moving and rustling them every so often. The sandy ground of the sea shifted softly under his feet, as he wandered slowly across the floor. The environment seemed barren and lonely, with only a few organisms in his sight, all of which appeared bizarre and otherworldly to John. The sun's rays looked as though they were a great distance away from the sea's floors where John ambled about, giving the grey landscape an erie, ghostly presence.

Hours had passed by the time John came across an extraordinarily sunny patch of water, and high rocks covered in green algae came into view ahead of John. Old shells and pieces of seaweed looked to be in patterns decorating the rocks, now towering over him. The bright rays of the sun felt warm against John's chilled skin and he stopped to peer around and study the curious sight of the shells and seaweed. Reaching out, he dragged his fingers over the corse surface of the shells.

"John!" He snapped his head around swiftly, water surging around his body as a glimmer of aqua colored scales raced past him. John recognized the voice and tail as Molly's. Her arms embraced him tightly, the shells and necklaces covering her chest pressing nearly painfully against him. "I've been worried! Has Sherlock not been attending to you?"

Her eyes didn't fail to display her concern for John, but John also saw that she was obviously relieved to have him in her care now. Molly's voice sounded soft and mellifluous under the water. John smiled as her eyes darted to his forehead, touching the now healing wound, which was leaving a light-colored scar.

"I actually haven't seen Sherlock since I have woken up," John's voice came hesitantly, not wanting the salty water to fill his mouth. However, his mouth stayed dry. He trailed behind Molly, who began to swim through the twisting maze of rocks and algae. Her tail moved gracefully, stirring the water around her. Her red hair flowed smoothly behind her and her fin fluidly moved with the current. The scales of her tail were wispy and thin-looking, and they camouflaged with the light blue waters of the sea. Nevertheless, they shone brightly and luminously against the dark sand of the sea floor, alight with the reflection of the sun rays.

"You can never be sure with our Sherlock," she laughed, glancing over her shoulder at John before swimming onward. "I'll take you to where I think he might be. I have a feeling he'll be there now." Molly reached back and pulled John gently off of his feet, drawing him next to her. The two swam together silently for a few moments.

The rocks that had towered over John continued ahead of them for what seemed like miles, becoming closer together and even connected as they swam further. Further ahead, the rocks were connected together at their tops with algae and other sea plants and organisms. Snails and large fish wove their way into the pathway joined together by the gargantuan stones.

"Where are we going?" John spoke up, looking over at the red-headed mermaid.

"To the supply cellars. We keep all of the human possessions and articles that we find there. We have scholars that find the meanings of the items, catalogue them and such. I work for them. Mainly just do small tasks to help catalogue things," she explained, as if studying human litter and useless junk was normal to the merfolk. John supposed it was, by the seriousness in her voice. Molly spoke of her job with a hint of pride and achievement, and John smiled at her sweetly.

"So Sherlock is one of these... scholars, I'm guessing?"

"Actually, he isn't. He prefers to work on his own, but he is called in by my boss sometimes. For examining mainly. He's rather knowledgable on humans." She pulled against John's arm a bit firmer and he swam faster, legs and arms tiring from the long swim. The waters around them became murkier and dull. Something dark loomed ominously at the end of the rocks, rising above the two. John's smile faded away from his face and his body went rigid. The looming sight was a sunken ship.

The ship's wood was rotting and green plants and snails covered its once brightly painted outside. A few flecks of red and white paint clung to the wood surface, but the name of the ship had faded away with the years of water it had been in the midst of. The view shocked John, his mind sent reeling back to his own ship and crew. The ship once carried a crew and possibly even passengers, and John tried to stop his thoughts about the poor souls who had occupied it at the time of its destruction. Anger seeped into him as well, knowing that this ship was a graveyard to humans, yet a place of business for merfolk.

"John?"

John was brought out of his thoughts and quietly followed Molly into the vessel through a gaping hole that looked to be carved into the side. Decorating the entrance were patterns of shells and other underwater plants, matching the ones that covered the rocks John had seen earlier. The inside of the ship astounded John. Colorful banners and paintings hung from the dome-like structure of the flipped ship, and the area was sectioned off into small offices and pockets. Walls of old wooden planks and stones were built to the 'ceiling' of the structure, making it more like a human building or factory, and all around him merfolk of every shape, size, and color swam past, hurrying about their business. The shining of scales was blinding yet remarkable, colors casting a glow onto the old wooden interior of the ship.

Mermaids and mermen rushed out and into carved passageways in the walls, shelves and files lining the rooms the entrances led to. Common human items were orderly categorized, lined neatly together. Forks, rag-dolls, clothing, shoes, hair ribbons, paintings, and jewelry, all tethered to the shelves by rope to keep them from drifting elsewhere. Scholars, John guessed, demonstrated theories of what the objects might be used for to pupils and other fellow scholars, tending carefully to the delicate metals of silverware and tearing fabric of garments. The shear amount of merfolk alone was enough to amaze John, peeking into the rooms as they passed.

Though a few stopped their fast-paced route to their next task, John seemed to be overlooked in the hurried activity and working going on around him. Molly and he swam upward, higher to the lofty 'ceiling' of the establishment (there was no use for stairs). While the other doorways were open, this particular one had a threadbare tapestry hung on it, blocking out the liveliness outside. The tapestry looked to be one from humans, but also had symbols and script printed onto it as well._ The writing of merfolk?_

"Sherlock should be in here," Molly stopped in front of the entryway. "And if he's not here, he should be soon. He loves this chamber." John went to enter the room, keeping his focus on Molly swimming away into the large crowd of young mermaids and mermen who had just passed by, mumbling about a new lecture from a scholar. "If you need me, come to the polishing rooms just outside of the main ship. You can't miss them!" She disappeared into the vibrant colors of the giant supply cellar.

For a few moments, John allowed himself to grasp against the frame of the carved door and stare down far below him, the floor seemed to be miles away from up above. The colossal inside of the ship reminded him of a swarming beehive, little rooms and shelves built into it like combs of a hive. The walls had hundreds of doorways in them, each leading to a room full of artifacts and merfolk. The colors of each merman's and mermaid's tail were vibrant and unique, not one the same. Some carried items in and out of the chambers, others rushing behind scholars out of the ship. _Polishing rooms?_ John pondered bewilderedly, thinking of the many other places these merfolk might be wandering to. _If this was how big the storage cellars were, how big must the community be?_ _And if there were other places like this in the vast seas? _

John stopped his trailing thoughts, turning to lift back the old, worn tapestry. Had Sherlock been in the room, John would have bursted at him with a deluge of questions, demanding answers. Why could he breath underwater? Why could he see? What did Sherlock want from him, now that his wound was healing nicely? However, the black haired merman wasn't present. Something far more petrifying was. John froze.

Lining the walls of shelves were not the same artifacts he had seen in the other chambers, there were no spoons and human mementos. There, instead, were skulls, human skulls.

_A/N: WHAT. THE. FUCK. AMIRIGHT? Why are there skulls in the room? Where is Sherlock? Why can John breathe underwater? Why can he see? WHY IS HE HERE ANYWAY? All will be revealed and more in the next installment! As always, review and have a spectacular day!_


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Hello again! Apologies in advance for any mistakes I've left unedited. My writing is total shit, I know. I'm working on little sleep so have mercy. Sorry for more tired!John in this chapter, all of the new experiences can wear on someone, you see. There will be a lot more John and Sherlock 'bonding time' and them getting to know each other in the next chapter as well as questions John has had finally being answered. But for now (as always) please enjoy, read, and review!***_

Chapter 7.

Dozens of dark, somber skulls surrounded John, their eye sockets seemed to desolately spy on him. Some of the bones were dingy and yellowed with age, but others were light gray and even white, obviously newer. The sizes were not varied except for a few smaller ones. Every skull was a the remnant of a human life, people who had most likely drowned in the perilous oceans or gave their lives in navy battles, but John preferred not to think of the poor souls who's bones now lay resting on the wooden shelves.

The captain turned slowly throughout the small room, floorboards groaning softly beneath the soles of his battered shoes. Once excited to see the merman Sherlock, now he remained silent, not wanting to be found by someone who would spend time among human skulls. The water was chilly in the secluded room, dark as well. Very few organisms roamed the chamber like they had throughout the rest of the old ship. Snails trailed their way in and out of the skulls and cracks between the walls and floors, their shells glowing eerily and illuminating the place somewhat.

"John Watson."

John pivoted around on his heels swiftly, expecting to be staring into the intense eyes of Sherlock. However, instead of the dark and curly haired merman, there was someone different meeting his gaze. Shadows kept John from seeing the merman, but his eyes were as bright as Sherlock's, though they were a dark, near black color. The shining black orbs glared down at John, and he could sense the merman was deep in thought.

"So Sherlock has gotten himself another human," he chuckled, shifted slowly from behind the shadows and twisting past John. The merman's tail was long, much longer than Sherlock's, and it barely fit inside the cramped room. The same raven-like scales covered it however, and he carried himself in the same condescending way Sherlock had.

"Who are you, and where is Sherlock?" John surprised himself with the amount of force in his voice. "Why do you know who I am?"

"Calm yourself, Captain Watson. I'm not going to," the merman paused to study a skull absentmindedly. "..harm you. On the contrary. I've come on account of your wellbeing." John shifted from foot to foot tensely. "As well as the wellbeing of my brother, Sherlock."

The merman's tail filled the room, its fin moving slightly in the flowing salt water. He was older than Sherlock by many years but his gloomy eyes were still sharp and quick, observing John's every movement.

"Have you enjoyed your stay with us? Has Sherlock been hospitable?" Sherlock's brother inquired. John's brow creased in frustration, not caring for the peculiar merman's dull chatter. He could sense something else was on his mind.

"What do you want from me," he demanded, moving closer to the merman and staring him directly in the eyes.

"No wonder Sherlock was so interested. You're a very different from the rest of them," he looked over at the pitiful lines of skulls along the walls. "What I want from you, Captain Watson, is yours eyes." John's heart stopped, frightened, and swallowed slowly. _Was that what all of the other humans were used for?_ "I want you, Captain Watson, to survey Sherlock's every movement." John was relieved that his _actual_ eyes were not being needed, but his chest was still tense and tight and he cautiously stepped a pace away.

"Why should I?" John tried his best appear threatening, belittled by the towering merman.

"What if I told you I could return you to your ship, John Watson?" Sherlock's brother lifted up one of the larger skulls and examined it slowly. "All you must do is keep eyes on my little brother, Sherlock."

"Why?"

"Full of questions, aren't we?" His eyes reflected light seeping in through the cracked floors. John became aware of the commotion and chatter taking place in the room below them. Suddenly he didn't feel so alone in the sinister room. It appeared brighter and less secluded when the tapestry rustled from outside. Both looked to the doorway.

"Mycroft," came Sherlock's deep voice as the pale skinned merman sulked in. He glanced over at John, eyes shining in the newly lit room. Grime and sand lifted up from the floor and were carried away by the waters, which were now churning from the sudden entry into the still room. Sherlock then looked at his brother, Mycroft, still clutching the tapestry in his almost colorless hand. The two mermen kept still for moments, the din and uproar from outside filling the room with a new liveliness.

"Always pleasant of you to make an appearance, Sherlock," Mycroft moved closer to the entrance, apparent he was leaving. He pushed his way past the dark-haired merman and glided his way out fluidly, head held high. Within moments he was gone from John's view, mixing in with the countless mermaids and mermen filling the ship. Sherlock pushed his way past John, carefully picking up the skull Mycroft had left sitting on the floor. The doorway closed again and the room filled with shadows. Sherlock looked over his shoulder at John, who was staring obliviously at his gleaming scales, though he quickly snapped back to looking about elsewhere in the room. Anywhere but Sherlock.

"I'm assuming that was your older brother."

"Did he offer you anything?" Sherlock demanded quickly, turning to watch John. His tail was smaller than Mycroft's, but it still dwarfed John in the small space.

"He said he would take me back to my ship if I looked after you."

"Did you accept the job?" A tinge of doubt laced Sherlock's words. John met his eyes.

"No."

"Good." The merman kept still. Eyes studying the skulls uneasily, John played absently with his sleeve. Sherlock moved to the corner, resting against the rickety walls. John took it as a signal to seat himself as well and settled to perch himself against an empty shelf, letting out a sigh. Having numerous human skulls surrounding him did not give him the most pleasant feeling.

After what seemed like hours, Sherlock moved and John snapped his head up with a start. He swam a bit closer to John and muttered something about following him before exiting the chamber. John followed. He drifted along behind Sherlock, too weary to care where their destination might be. Sherlock reached out and grasped John's hand when he began to lag behind. His eyes opened wider at this gesture. The feeling of Sherlock's smooth skin against his calloused hands felt soothing but electrifying. John moved his exhausted legs faster to catch up. He assured himself that it was only a reaction to being near such an otherworldly creature, even though he hadn't felt the feeling when Molly had been near him.

The two swam out the front of the storage cellar and in again to the open sea. Colors and merfolk became a jumbled blur but John trekked on with Sherlock, clinging to his hand. He could have sworn the merman gripped a bit tighter around John's fingers, and he smiled slightly to himself.

They made their way past the large rocks John had gone by with Molly earlier. Now the sea was dim with the evening light, weak rays of sunlight were sparsely scattered across the gloomy expanse of sand and coral. The coral was dead and colorless, much like the dreary bones in the curious room John had been in. Farther and farther Sherlock swam, into the dull landscape. They had passed a few mermaids and mermen who swam aimlessly together far above John and Sherlock, but now John felt completely alone with Sherlock.

Finally they came across a thick tangle of tall seaweed that rose far above John and Sherlock. Showing no sign of stopping, the pale skinned merman let go of his hand and pushed past the crowded plants. To much of John's surprise, he was greeted by a number of small caves and large caverns dotting the once barren landscape just past the vegetation. A multitude of merfolk occupied the space, making the dull expanse of sand colorful and lively. By now the moon was making its way into the sky and its light cast a pale glow over the caves.

Body heavy with exhaustion, John had to force himself to keep his eyes open. The merfolk seemed to be equally exhausted and were making their way into separate caves, chatting amongst themselves and waving goodbye to others who were rushing past John and out of through the seaweed, muttering and cursing their night shift jobs. The human-like atmosphere of the 'neighborhood' made John smile. If he had been more awake he would have tried to study every aspect and take in every detail of the cove, but his eyelids were drooping heavily and he leaned a bit closer to Sherlock.

Sherlock pushed him away, grabbing his hand and speeding ahead past the smaller caves and the merfolk and farther into the stretching amount structures and tall rocks. Some caverns overshadowed others, and some were built of wooden planks and seaweed, constructed like human buildings and inns. As far as the eye could see there were buildings and caves and rushing merfolk, giving of the feeling of a city atmosphere. Caught in the midst of the buzzing 'city' was a very tired John, almost unaware of the thousands of merfolk and the giant metropolis. The noise of the place fell silently on John's tired ears and he didn't even bother trying to comprehend his new surroundings for now.

John stared up dazedly at the sky-high establishments, feeling as if he was in a dream or looking into a story book at a picture of Atlantis. Sherlock steered him toward one of the structures nestled between what looked like a restaurant and an impressive apartment building. It was tall, but compared to the towers and colossal appearance of the rest of the 'city', it looked small and modest. He pushed past the cloth hung in the doorway and John followed inside. Fatigue fogged his mind and senses. Eyes slipping closed, John felt Sherlock's strong hands clasp around him and pull him further into the home. The last thing John felt was the warmth of the merman's skin against the cold of the night's chilled waters.

_A/N: Too lazy to do the questioning-thing. Review and have a nice day!_

_***(And don't fret, the next chapter will have awake!John. I promise no more tired!John. From this point on after this chapter the plot will unfold and the chapters will be longer. And Johnlock will happen later on *happy dance*)_


	8. Note From The Author

_Author's Note:_

_Hello all! Lately I've been having several very high fevers, and I haven't been feeling well enough to write a chapter, let alone even walk around my house. It saddens me to inform all of my readers that until further notice this story will be on a bit of a hiatus. I can't recall ever feeling so weak and unwell, and though I tried somewhat to write, I'm just too tired and sick (even writing this note is exhausting! D-:). Hopefully I'll return to normal and write a little more, but after reading about my symptoms online I have been discouraged about that happening anytime soon :-(. _

_I had so much planned for this story! I'll try to return ASAP and give you guys a wonderful chapter. But until then, thank you for reading and I hope you understand. _

_-Meri_


	9. Chapter 8

_A/N: Holy shit. Look who's back from the dead. Long time no see, readers (if I still have any, by this point)! I cannot apologize enough for the super long hiatus! Really, I am so sorry! I was sick for so long, and once I got over that I started seeing someone (teehee) and I've been occupied with other things! Again, I'm terribly sorry for making you guys wait so long for this update! I promise to start updating regularly now (though I might have to break that promise with the holidays coming up and all...). Anyway, as always I must say that the story is shit, complete and utter shit, but I am trying to make it better. I have big plans for this little fic! Big plans! As always, read, review, and enjoy!_

Chapter 8.

Pain. He felt pain.

John Watson shot up hurriedly, but his movements were slowed by the sea's water. He sat upright on the stone slab that was pushed against the wooden walls of Sherlock's 'home'. Looking over his shoulder, John saw a small crab with a sand caked shell scuttle away from where he had just been resting on the smooth stone. His hands met the stinging flesh on his back where the crab had pinched him angrily.

John let his eyes trail around the small room lazily, looking at every crack and crevice of the place. The floors were like mosaics of scattered books and other human possessions. The water had been cruel to the fragile pages of the multiple volumes of Shakespeare that were piled at the foot of the stone settee he was sitting on. John leaned down to pick one up, fingers tracing over the once inky black words that now stood sagging and faded on the soaked page.

He spent several minutes like this, wandering around the room and flinching over every floorboard that groaned sorrowfully under his foreign weight. The maze of books and crumpled fabrics on the floors was nothing compared to the mountains of forks, spoons, necklaces, mirrors, plates, rings, shoes, and much more that occupied the buckling tables that were pushed up against the walls opposite the settee.

"Looking for something?"

John's skin prickled with fear for an instant before his eyes rolled, turning around to meet the gaze of Sherlock, who was glaring at him from the front doorway. He floated in silently, past John and into an open hole in the ceiling of the first floor. John didn't hesitate to follow and he kicked his legs clumsily, propelling himself upwards into the second floor.

"Is all of this yours?" He gestured to an even bigger collection of human belongings thrown haphazardly around the room. Foggy sunlight drifted in through a large window that had a blue glass in it. Remains of old bottles hung from threads and strings off of the wooden ceiling, containing what looked like-

_No, it couldn't be._ John squinted his eyes and looked closer at the contents of the bottles, shocked to find them filled with old, grimy bones and various parts of eyes that John didn't care to look too closely at.

_Last time you had a patient the man lost 6 toes and an arm!_ Anderson's words rung through John's head menacingly.

"They're not mine. I study them for the scholars." Sherlock paused and turned around to face John. His eyes were cold, even harsh, but they seemed to soften. He moved closer to John, offering him a seat in an old wooden chair that looked as if it would give out any second. John seated himself, glancing at a stack of books that rested tiredly on the table beside him.

"Are you a big fan of Shakespeare, Sherlock?" John gave little effort to make small talk. He was met by an inquisitive look from the merman, and then a look of what seemed to be joy. Or, at least, the best joyous expression Sherlock could pull off on his sullen face.

"So you can read," he said excitedly. His curled hair floated elegantly over his shining eyes. The light from the blue-tinted glass cast a gloomy, delicate shadow over his white skin and the raven colored scales on his tail.

"Of course I can read," John retorted as Sherlock's hands raced over the books on the floor. He muttered to himself, loudly, before coming across the book he was searching for.

"Read this to me. Prove it." Sherlock commanded, pressing the leather-bound volume into John's hands and then seating himself across from John on another wooden chair backed up against the wall opposite him. John stared down at the book. The title was once painted onto the cover carefully in immaculate golden letters, but it now held its ground with a melancholy weakness. Only a few of the letters remained, hardly enough to tell what the title of the book was. He ran his hands over the ragged leather and began to open the book, keeping his eyes on Sherlock, who was staring impatiently at the book.

"Get on with it," Sherlock huffed.

"No. I won't read this. Not until you answer some of my questions."

Sherlock sighed and his eyes darkened in irritation. The room was filled with a deafening silence.

"Fine," Sherlock uttered, crossing his arms of his thin, bare chest. John couldn't help but smile. It was as if he dealing with a spoiled child, one who pouted and huffed just like the dark haired merman.

"First of all, why am I here?"

"Simple. I need a human to help me with my studies." Sherlock answered quickly, examining John's face carefully. "The other ones have been complete and utter imbeciles. I'm hoping you will be a slight exception to the long line of," Sherlock paused for a second, only long enough to let his eyes drift above to the ceiling and study the yellowed bones trapped within the dingy glass bottles. "Failures."

_Was that a threat?_ John wondered, but remained unshaken by the ominous gesture and settled for not questioning Sherlock's comment.

"So you need me to tell you what all of these human possessions are?"

"Obviously."

"And what about my breathing? Why can I survive under water?"

"Molly is behind that. She has quite a love for medicine, one which I influenced," Sherlock added pompously. "You survived for a few minutes after we went beneath the surface of the sea, but after that she provided you with an herb that allows one lacking gills to be sustained under water for weeks."

"And my ship, my crew- are they alright?"

"I haven't got time for all of these questions, John. I'm sure they will survive without their fearless captain for a few weeks."

"Weeks? Look, I haven't got time to help you with your _studies_. I have people who depend on me!"

"Mycroft will be looking after them, if they're not on their way already."

"Is that supposed to comfort me?" John snapped at Sherlock loudly. Again, the room went quiet. Minutes passed by with nothing to fill the silence put the sound of creaking wood that sounded so much like the floorboards of John's old ship. His heart sank in sorrow, and the knowing that his ship had gone off, leaving him behind, made him exhale, slowly.

"The Brothers Grimm."

Sherlock's luminous eyes glanced up and met John's.

"It's a book of children's tales, recorded by two men named Grimm."

"So you can read," the merman said, trying to hide the excitement in his voice. The captain answered with a nod. "Good. You'll be of more use than the other one Molly brought me."

Sherlock grabbed John's wrist frantically and took the both of them back to the first floor. His skeletal hands grabbed onto the mounds of books that had been stacked messily near the settee and gave them to John, then took a large volume of an English dictionary into his arms.

"What 'other'," John said impatiently as he watched him sift through the plethora of books in the room. Without answering his question, Sherlock darted out of the room quickly, past the front door and out into the busy streets of the city compiled of large glass structures, small wooden homes, and every other building imaginable built high and mighty above each other, reaching up to the sun which shined brightly, even in the sea. John hesitated, then followed the merman out into the open, still carrying the weighty books in his grip.

"I'll show you," Sherlock said over his shoulder, rushing ahead back in the direction in which the two had come the night before, back to the storage cellars John had met Myrcoft in. He didn't have time to take in the sights and sounds, for he was busy following closely behind Sherlock, flailing his legs in attempt to swim with the books piled high in his arms. Sherlock looked back at him one more time before looking ahead.

"He calls himself 'Lestrade'."

_A/N: OMG. AMIRIGHT. Yeah. It'll get better. I promise. I'll update ASAP!_


End file.
